


Tears

by Abiggaynerd



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Crying, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 09:30:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16741432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abiggaynerd/pseuds/Abiggaynerd
Summary: Maxwell isn’t used to being treated like he’s precious.





	Tears

Wilson’s kisses are gentle. 

They always are. Too gentle, really, as if Maxwell is something valuable and precious to Wilson. Something Wilson wants to keep safe, something he loves...

Silent tears begin to fall down Maxwell’s face.

“Hey, hey...” Wilson whispers, concerned. 

Maxwell shakes his head, pulling Wilson back down. 

Wilson hums, and cups Maxwell’s cheek in his hand. He kisses away the tears, so gently, touches so light they’re barely there. The tears don’t stop, they keep coming. Too many for Wilson to kiss away, but he just coos and continues his kisses. 

Maxwell feels like he might burst. He feels very, very small.

Maxwell grabs Wilson in desperation, wrapping his arms around him tightly and clutching him close. He whimpers once, shamefully. 

“It’s alright,” Wilson murmurs, “I’m here.” 

He hides his face in the crook of Maxwell’s neck. One hand rests on Maxwell’s shoulder, and the other on Maxwell’s face, thumb stroking tenderly. Wilson nuzzles the neck, before licking a wet stripe. Maxwell lets out another noise, and clutches him tighter, as if he might disappear. Wilson takes it as encouragement, licking at the skin slowly before putting his mouth on it. The suction is gentle, and so is the little nip Wilson takes.

Maxwell is unable to speak. He closes his eyes tightly, and takes a deep, shuttering breath. 

Wilson unbuttons Maxwell’s shirt, but Maxwell can’t bear to let go of him to let him pull the shirt from his arms. He fears-foolishly, and he knows this- that if he lets go, Wilson will disappear in a puff of smoke. He clutches him tighter, feeling the warmth of the skin under his fingers and on his chest. 

“Shhh,” Wilson coos, sitting up. Both hands cupping Maxwell’s face, forcing him to look at him. Maxwell realizes he’s shaking terribly, and falls limp under Wilson’s touch. 

“It’s alright,” Wilson says. “Do you want to stop?”

And no, Maxwell doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want it to ever end, it’s just- Wilson has to understand, he’s not used to paradise. He shakes his head, still mute. He grabs Wilson’s hand and squeezes it, and Wilson smiles and squeezes back. 

He tightly grasps Wilson’s hand as Wilson awkwardly unbuttons their pants with one hand, and pulls out both of their penises. 

Wilson licks his hand, and wraps it around Maxwell’s half-hard dick. It’s a slow, steady pace. It quickly hardens fully, and Wilson speeds up a bit. 

Maxwell remembers he should be reciprocating, and begins to stroke Wilson’s dick too. Wilson yelps in surprise, before laughing a bit and moving a bit closer. 

It’s overwhelming, and Maxwell takes a deep breath. He tries to match Wilson’s pace. 

Wilson rubs his thumb over Maxwell’s head, making Maxwell moan. Maxwell hates his sounds, but Wilson seems encouraged, and does it again, firmer. Maxwell’s back arches. 

He tries to focus on Wilson’s dick, to avoid cumming embarrassingly early. He rubs his fingers over the balls, back up the shaft, to the head, and imitates what Wilson was doing.

“Wait,” Wilson says, and he pulls away and down. His other hand continues to hold Maxwell’s hand, though, and he threads their fingers together. 

Wilson takes Maxwell into his mouth. It’s good, so good, good and wet and wonderful, but it’s too good. It’s so good Maxwell might just die. 

Maxwell’s silently heaving with sobs, but when Wilson squeezes his hand, he squeezes back. 

Wilson licks, and kisses it, drool cascading down his chin. Maxwell forces his hips to stay down. 

Then Wilson sucks, and it’s so much. 

“Wilson,” Maxwell says, and Wilson heeds his warning, and pulls off. Maxwell is almost embarrasses at how quick this was, but how can he help it if Wilson is behaving like he is? 

Wilson’s hand resumes the work, one, two, and Maxwell is done.

Maxwell cums hard, intensity rolling over his body in waves. He gasps a strangled moan, body wound up and toes curled, before falling limp. He can hear his heart in his ears.

He comes back to his senses quickly, as Wilson frantically tries to reach release with his own hand. Maxwell grabs his wrist, and Wilson whines and shivers. 

“Let me,” Maxwell said, voice cracking, and Wilson offers no resistance as his hands replace his own. Maxwell goes slow, too slow for Wilson’s liking, and Wilson begins to fuck the hand that was offered to him. 

“There we go,” Maxwell says, mesmerized by the sight of Wilson so wanton. He was half disappointed he had already finished, because the sight was one he was going to have to let go to waste. Though maybe not completely- he was sure he’d remember this later. 

Wilson makes a desperate sound. 

“Maxwell,” he says, body beginning to jerk and shake out of his control, “I love- hng- I love you, love you, I love you..” 

Wilson says that a great deal. Maxwell never knows if it was an actual, true declaration, or if Wilson just doesn’t understand the weight of his words. Maxwell never says it back- couldn’t-, but Wilson doesn’t seem to mind.

Instead, Maxwell grabs his hand and squeezes. Wilson smiles at him. 

Wilson’s eyes are shut tightly as he spends his last over Maxwell’s chest. He collapses onto Maxwell’s chest, sticky with sweat and his own cum. 

It’s silent for a moment, both breathing heavily. 

Wilson raises his head, and reaches up to Maxwell’s face to wipe away more tears.

“You cried a lot,” Wilson says. 

“It’s a purely physical reaction,” Maxwell says stiffly. He wipes his tears away hastily, batting away Wilson’s hand, but the hand remains on his face. 

Wilson smiles at him, grin wide and dopey. He lays his head back on Maxwell’s chest. 

“We should- we should wash up,” Maxwell says. 

“Haven’t you ever heard of an afterglow?” Wilson says. He wraps his arms around Maxwell. “We’ll still be able to wash in a while. Stay.” 

“If you insist.”

Maxwell's own arms wrapped around Wilson, and he let himself relax.


End file.
